Father's Day

Sunday 2nd September.

Back in Sydney and fed up. Spring has sprung, it's Fathers' day, it's 24 degrees down on the beach but all I want to do is unwrap my new aboriginal pot and put it on the table in the hall back home. Coming home from a holiday means coming home, not coming back to a flat with a cockroach in the laundry and more evidence that our friendly neighbourhood tyre-slasher's been up to his old tricks.

"Send it to my mum" Said Darren. "She'll put in on the table for you".

"It's not the point" I said. "I want to go back to Darwin. Sydney stinks, I'm so over Sydney, I want to be closer to nature and the cockroach doesn't count".

We sat brooding about it on the beach for a while and agreed we're over Sydney. We're over the traffic and the noise and especially the people. It's nicer up north, whichever side of the world you're on.